


One Of These Mornings

by Willow



Series: The One Who Sees [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, character introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-18
Updated: 2003-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow/pseuds/Willow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from: Dirty Girls. Spike pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of These Mornings

There's Buffy. And then there's Buffy.

Or rather, there's Buffy and then there's the Slayer.

Spike loves them both. He's never thought to question it. Not recently. His soul burns bright and aching and sweet, like the first bite, like Druscilla's teeth and pain and promise.

He loves Buffy. Has loved her. Will love her. And smiles to himself at the thought that he and his grandsire agree on anything. But there's power in her, beauty, something fierce and untamed, something that balances light and dark in a way he wishes he could. No reigns to hold her back, no newness of a stinging soul. She just is. And, he loves her.

It roars through his head as her body flies backwards from Caleb's punch and the demon in him surges. Mine! He's not even sure he feels Caleb's hard hit to him. He's just on the ground covered in wine, grateful he doesn't have to breathe or he'd drown in the sticky sweetness.

The fight behind him is an echo, shadow puppets of sound. Spike stumbles to his feet warily, his sense of smell trying to find the Slayer's over all the wine, his ears straining for her heartbeat. There's a sickening crick that goes straight to his cock and he blinks in time to see one of the potentials fall; her neck snapped like a matchstick.

Spike swallows and looks away, feeling his face shift. He has to find Buffy. She's what matters. And when the footsteps of their backup come charging in, he only blinks at the other Slayer, the dark one whose blood sings to him. Faith's comfortable. Like tea and crumpets and blood and good conversation.

Spike ignores it and shakes it off, making his way through the Bringers and chaos for Buffy. He has to reach Buffy, that's what's important.

Lub dub, lub dub. Mildly strained breaths. Spike tracks Xander without a thought. He blocks and counters and slams his rage against those against him, quietly comforted knowing Xander is headed towards Buffy and he can take a moment to protect the Slayer's charges.

Blood, fresh, sweet. His head turns to see another fall; stabbed.

Caleb's talking, but it washes over Spike like rain. The others are scrambling to get away. He hears Buffy's voice say retreat and starts blocking so the girls can get away, one stumbles near him and he helps her. Buffy would want this, want him to help them. It's the...right thing to do.

He takes a last look around backing up when he hears a familiar lub dub pick up it's pace. Spike tracks it with all his senses. Scared, trapped, smell of fear, worry, determination.

He takes a step forward and then a half restrained scream echoes off the brick walls. Spike feels himself drop away; blood sweat; Xander's hurt. Caleb flies backwards and Spike isn't sure if he hit the preacher or if Buffy did. He's too focused on Xander's blood, his eye, the way he's looking around to make sure everyone else got out. Spike slips his arm around Xander and feels Buffy take more of the man's weight as she helps them run to safety. The scream still resonances endlessly in tones only a vampire can hear.

The Bringers aren't following. Buffy's checking in with the girls, helping them through the woods to the car. Spike scoops Xander up in his arms. The other man's in shock, holding one hand over the crushed tissue in his eye socket and looking at Spike trying not to cry. His lower lip quivers but his jaw's clenched tight.

Spike inhales suddenly, smelling green and earth along with Xander's blood, exhaling sticky wine and the scent of Caleb; soft, doughy but masculine with a tang of insanity. He shifts slightly lifting Xander's head closer to his own and inhales again, grounding himself.

When they reach the car, the injured girls piling in as best as they can, Faith organizing with Buffy. Spike slips quietly into a backseat and holds Xander close. The other man's quiet. His remaining eye closes in shock and exhaustion but fright makes him start and open it again.

Spike rocks him and wills everyone to settle in already and get to a hospital. He spies Buffy through the window and scans her quickly, checking for injuries.

Faith is driving, Buffy drives the potentials. They're in Xander's car, headed for the hospital. Faith's hands on the steering wheel are white. Spike wonders if that's the only sign of how upset she is.

"What did he say ?"

Spike doesn't have to ask what. Big Bad snappy quips before destruction. It might mean something. "That Xander sees things."

The line of Faith's jaw goes tense and she flicks a glance at them both through the rearview mirror. Spike follows her gaze, catching a glimpse of Xander carefully cradled by nothing, holding onto nothing.

The image stays in his mind all the way to the hospital. But then they're there and he's running out, carrying Xander into the emergency room and quietly slipping away. Too many reflective surfaces, too much tension. He gives Buffy a nod and goes to help the other girls get home. The ones not too battered.

He drops them off easily enough, and guides Giles through what happened. Faith disappears down the basement steps and Spike watches her go. Lil'Bit is crying somewhere. He can smell her tears.

"But he's going to be alright, isn't he ?"

There's a buzz of some sort and he realizes she's on the phone talking to Willow. He slips outside, through the kitchen's backdoor to sit on the steps and smoke. Cigarette lit, Spike inhales again, tasting the air around him and frowns, his hands trembling slightly because for some reason, it's all wrong now.


End file.
